


Figure of an angel

by s_a_b_i_n_e



Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 15:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30057849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_a_b_i_n_e/pseuds/s_a_b_i_n_e
Summary: Castiel finds a funko pop of a certain angel in Dean's room.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022302
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	Figure of an angel

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was inspired [by this twitter prompt.](https://twitter.com/bbntrenchcoat/status/1371343169321791489?s=09)

It's been a damn long day. A damn long week. Oh, please! Who is Dean kidding? It's been a damn long life and he's tired as he has never been.

He slumps on his bed, not even caring to lose the boots. He closes his eyes against the dim light of his bedside lamp. Why bother switching it off? Something will interrupt his well-deserved sleep anyway.

He throws his arm over his face, blissful darkness enveloping him. It's a fragile state of peace. He knows it. But it doesn't matter. They have Cass back. He's across the hall or somewhere else, safe in the bunker.

Dean lets out a long breath, the sound loud in his room. He's turning to the side, his hand going for the light switch as he hears a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in," he shouts, shuffling up into a sitting position. The door opens tentatively and Dean realises who will appear behind it with a clench of his heart. He's really back. The truth hasn't fully sunk in yet.

"Heya, Cass," he whispers. He doesn't even know why.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel answers with a low rumble. The sound washes warmly over Dean's skin. He feared to never hear it again. "Can I come in?"

"Course," Dean says, clearing his voice against the sudden tightness of his throat. "What's up?"

Castiel's eyes flicker through the room. He can't look at Dean. He opens his mouth but closes it again. The silence grows thick between them.

"Anythin' you need?" Dean asks.

"I just wanted ..." Castiel trails off as his eyes fix on something on the desk.

Dean's head spins to the side. _Oh._

Panic rises in his chest when he realises that Cass doesn't look at the photograph of him and his mum, but at the little plastic figure standing next to it.

His hands form fists, ready to fight. It's an old reflex whenever things get too personal and humour isn't an option.

He slowly gets off the bed as he watches Castiel walking closer to the desk and running his finger over the little figurine's head. Dean steps closer, fixing his eyes on the little frown on the other's beautiful face. He missed it. The confusion. The visible hard thinking. He missed this man.

Castiel tilts his head to the side. "Why do you have a doll that looks like me on your desk, Dean?"

The hunter swallows hard. "It's not a _doll_ , Cass. It's a funko pop!"

"And why is there one that looks like me?"

"Coz you're famous. Remember? You're in the books. The 'Winchester Gospel'. There are Sam and Dean figures, too."

"Can I see them?"

Dean blushes. "Um, no. I don't have 'em."

"Why not?" Cass asks, tilting his head even more in the most adorable way. The sight makes Dean's stomach flip.

"Would be weird. Having myself on the desk," Dean chuckles nervously and runs a hand over the back of his neck.

"And having me on your desk isn't?"

Castiel has a point. But Dean can hardly say that he had this little angel for ages, well hidden in his duffle bag and later in his bedside table. It wandered next to Mary and little Dean's picture after he thought he lost his angel forever.

"I saw it and thought you might like it if ... _when_ you came back," Dean lies. Just good that his friend doesn't pick up on subtle signs of dishonesty. Dean would have been screwed a long time ago if he did. He's screwed anyway.

"You believed I would?"

 _No._ "Sure."

That conjures a beautiful smile on Castiel's face. "Thank you, Dean," he says and takes the small winged, trenchcoat-wearing figure and presses the hand to his chest. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Sure thing," Dean says and turns away so that Castiel can't see the shame on his face.

After Castiel left his room, Dean stares at the empty spot on his desk. This little thing had been a part of his life. It reminded him that Cass was real when doubt clawed around his heart whenever the angel had been gone too long or - as he thought this time - forever.

It's stupid. He misses the sight of it. But Castiel is back. At least, he can steal glances of the real deal now. That must be enough.

***

A sudden warm touch on his shoulder startles Dean. He catches his breath, realising it's just Castiel, leaning in to look at the computer screen.

_Shit!_

"You're buying another one? Why?" Castiel rumbles, way too close to Dean's ear. It sends shivers down his spine.

Dean wets his lips. "Um ..." He turns to see the expression on his friend's face. Castiel smirks. God! What is he doing to him?

Dean looks back on the screen where he just put a Castiel funko pop into the shopping cart. "I thought I'd buy them all," he says, already wincing at the costs of his cover-up.

Castiel straightens. "Right. They would look great in the Dean cave."

Dean nods and fills the cart with more and more figures, throwing in a few non-Supernatural ones for good measure.

***

Castiel returns to Dean's leisure room. Picking up the book that he forgot there, his gaze falls on the shelve that is home to the many figures Dean bought after he gifted him his own. Castiel smiles softly thinking about it. The figure is in his room, one of the very few things he owns. It's precious to him.

His eyes wander from one piece to the next, stopping at the empty spot between Dean and Charlie. He snickers softly and leaves the room, shaking his head in amusement. Dean may not say a lot, but his actions speak louder than words.

***

"Good night, angel," Dean whispers with a last look at the funko pop on his bedside drawer before he switches off the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think. 💙💚


End file.
